


His Treasure Booty, Her Hearty

by Wynni



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alternate Universe - Crack, Alternate Universe - Pirate, Crack, Crack Crossover, Fluff, Fluff and Crack, Fluff and Smut, Golden Age of Piracy, Inspired by Pirates of the Caribbean, Pirates
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-15
Updated: 2017-05-05
Packaged: 2018-10-05 15:09:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,011
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10310966
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wynni/pseuds/Wynni
Summary: Pirate!AU Crack Fiction.Beware of frolics and multi-fandom references!Co-written with Wynni, and it means giggles and skittles, sassy female protagonists, and silliness all around. Also featuring an all female pirate crew, dashing Captain Thorington, couple peeps walking the plank, and lots of shivering timbers! Rated M for happy consensual hanky-panky later.{ThorinxOC; FilixOC}





	1. Azog

**Author's note :**

**The story is co-written with Wynni, and features her OC, Bri Davis. If Bri+Fili is your ship (all puns intended ;)) you should check out her page!**

**All the female pirates below are actually Hobbit and LotR characters, so have fun guessing them!**

**And I'm sure the ginger chick will be familiar to you too ;)**

**And remember, it's a Pirate!AU; it's frothy, it's silly, and has nothing to do with the original, except our love for the characters, and the game with references we hope you'll enjoy with us!**

**Cheers!**

**kkolmakov & Wynni**

* * *

 

Stern brown eyes kept watch on the massive slaveship, _The Gundabad._ If the scuttlebutt was good, it was filled to bursting with coin and other easily disbursed goods from a fat profit in Charleston. As low in the water as _The_ _Gundabad_ was sitting, Captain Briallen Davis of _The Hind Wind_ was thinking they'd hit payload.

"Ready the broadsides! Ten pounders only! We don' wan' 'ter sink 'er until after we've looted her dry!" Briallen called down to her crew, awaiting orders. Her curly brown hair was tied back, but that didn't keep the mess at bay. Tiny wisps danced about her head in the lofting breeze that was making the sails over their heads snap.

"You heard the captain! Move it!" Eowyn moved purposefully among the crew. Eowyn still carried herself with military precision, even though she'd left that life long ago to join Davis' crew. Briallen often loudly envied the bird for the neat blonde braid that never ravelled. It laid obediently along her straight spine as she checked to see that only the tens were being loaded. _The Hind Wind_ stocked five twenty pounders, but those rarely saw play. No profit in sinking a ship before it could be looted. "Gretel, we said nothing but the tens."

Gretel Gloinson held her ground, never mind the cold shivers that were probably running her spine from Eowyn's icy blue eyes. "The chains, see?" Gretel held up a pair of tens with a thick chain between them. "I picked them up in Tortuga. This would clear the deck or sails easy."

Eowyn stood there, as if considering Gretel's proposal. "I see, they clear the deck, possibly damage the sails… then how do we sail our prize, if that's the captain's final objective?"

"Um..." The sturdy ginger pirate didn't have an answer.

"As I thought. Gretel, to your post, now."

"Aye aye."

* * *

The battle was short and brutal. Broadsides were exchanged at almost too close a range for the preternaturally good helmsman to do any good, but still they found enough wind and room to turn into most of the shots from _The Gundabad_ , letting them bounce off the reinforced sides Gretel had talked her into. Briallen had worried Gretel's improvements were going to sink her fine ship, yet _Hind Wind_ floated and survived encounters she'd not thought possible. It was probably the best bet she ever lost. It had been worth buying the bottomless German's rounds that night.

Her ship did not escape unscathed, though. Not even Layla of the Long Arms could turn against every volley. They would be putting into port shortly for repairs, but they were still floating high, while _The Gundabad_ had started to list heavily.

They needed to board, get their loot, and get off. They would not be claiming _The Gundabad_ as a prize ship, she'd be berthing soon in Davy Jones' locker.

"Boarding party ready?" Briallen looked about her. Each one had a hook and line, ready to make fast to the other ship. "We get our loot, and get out. Any longer, and we run the risk of joining them down below. Brigid!" Briallen turned to her Second Mate, a large Irish named O'Bean. "You watch the lines. The moment our ship starts listing with _The Gundabad_ , you cut the ropes."

A round of angry chatter met her order. "No! I'll not risk my crew nor my ship any more than I already have on that scurvy hog of a ratfaced codswallop. I mean it! First list, cut the lines. We can swim for it if we must.'

"As you say, captain." Brigid's face wasn't the mask of impassiveness Eowyn had cultivated. The worry sat heavy between her dark brows.

"Buck up, Brigid! I'm not asking you to abandon us, just make sure _The Gundabad_ doesn't drag my ship down with it."

"Aye, captain."

"Ready? Let's go rob a robber." Briallen hooked an arm in one of the long hanging lines, and swung herself across. The hook she threw with the other hand easily found purchase on the gunwhale, and sank firmly into the wood. "Take to yer knees, an' I might let you scurvy dogs live. Fight, and meet yer end on my blade!" Never let it be said Briallen didn't enjoy the dramatic flair of the pirate's life.

The first of the slaver's crew swung at her with a heavy sword, cutting deep into the gunwhale she just came over. The poor man seemed incapable of real speech, just grunts and snarls. Briallen wondered what sort of ship Azog was running. She deftly parried, rolled around the slaver, and kicked his feet out from under him, slashing him across the throat when he splayed out on the seawashed deck. She looked about her, Eowyn using that military precision to devastating effect. She looked to be on her third, while Gretel, who still insisted axes were more fun, was merrily backing two enemy crew into a corner against the gundeck. Briallen found herself strangely free.

Which begged the question: where was Azog? Where was the fearsome captain of _The Gundabad_? Briallen went hunting.

* * *

The first place Briallen looked was the captain's cabin. Obviously, either he was here defending his most prized possessions, or perhaps gathering them to escape while his poor crew bought him time.

She fully expected to find the vile captain. She did not expect to see him with a blackened eye, scratched face, and dragging a highly perturbed and valiantly struggling young woman.

"Why Azog, it's been ages. I must say, you look vastly improved."

Briallen was ready, as usual. Azog barreled right into a lunge - no talking, no fuss - just shoved the poor girl he'd been manhandling down, and plowed right into combat.

She deftly deflected his first attack, using his own momentum to shove him off stride with a solid kick to the rear as he passed her. His flailing swipe was also easy to dance back from, as the deck rolled alarmingly under their feet as the list steepened. Briallen couldn't afford a dragged out fight. Much as she loved the sea, she was not dressed for a swim, and heaven only knew if the poor girl could swim or not.

Briallen dodged the next attack, looking for the necessary opening to end the fight quickly. There, the next swing, his stance was too wide and his neck wide open too long, Briallen's cutlass cut cleanly through Azog's neck, and sent his cabbage - pointy ears, and shark like teeth - rolling to a stop by the railings. She kicked it neatly over the side, not even waiting for the splash to go check on the young woman. She refused to waste any guilt on Azog's end. Too many good sailors had lost their lives to him. Let him be just another bit of lost flotsam.

"Now what's a nice lady like you doin' on a filthy slaver like this?" Briallen offered her a hand up. It was clear from the milky white skin, now covered in bruises and scratches, and the fine dress, torn and dirtied beyond repair, that the young woman in question was Quality. No amount of rough handling could hide that proud carriage or dainty manners. Briallen hoped the rope burns around the girl's ankles and wrists didn't leave her a permanent reminder. Briallen felt her own wrist itch in memory.

"You're a woman..." the girl breathed out. Eyes like the finest fire topaz peeped out of a long, tangled, and vibrant mass of red hair. Briallen did not envy her the time it would take to clean and tame that bramblepatch, though Leyla and Sammy both would probably have hissy fits until it was done.

"Congratulations, you've been rescued by one of the few only female crews to sail these seas. I'm Captain Davis, at your service." Briallen pulled the girl on up to her feet.

"My name is Wren O'Leary, I was travelling to my… husband to Port Esgaroth. His name is Governor Bowman..." The redhead swayed, but tried to keep her back straight. "He'll pay good money for my return, Captain Davis."

"Well, Miss Leary, let me hand you off to my crew. I've still a ship to inspect before it sinks, and you look like you could use a rest and a wash before anything else can be done."

"What will happen to me? What will you do?" The girl couldn't keep the tremble out of her voice. She also didn't look like she'd been fed for weeks.

Captain Davis gave her a long look. "Feed you, clean you, and get you home. What did you think?"

"I'll keep my mouth shut, Captain." Despite the battered state, the girl managed a small but cheeky smile. "Why offend a kind host?"

Briallen threw her head back and laughed. "Miss Leary, I think I like you."

* * *

Briallen was watching carefully as her crew quickly emptied the holds of all its salvageable goods. It was a good haul, one that would cover not only this trip, but the next if it didn't pan out. She idly wondered what was keeping Billy and her little party in the bilge levels. If the pumps could keep them going just a little longer, they'd be able to empty the ship to its bare planks.

"Captain! Captain, come quick! Ye'll never guess what we've found below!" Briallen pulled herself erect from her slouch against the bulwark to see what Merry and Billie found this time.

"Now this is a curious sight." Who knew Azog even had a brig?

Yet there it was, water to their knees now; and a blonde, battered man sat in the rising water, hands and ankles chained together. Thank the good lord he wasn't chained to the wall. She didn't think even Gretel's axe could cut the thick timbers quickly enough to beat the rising waters.

"What did you do, to have Azog put you in here?" She was willing to give anyone a chance Azog felt needed caging. It also helped he was shackled. If he were a worse monster than Azog, all the easier to gut him.

"Could have been the insults to his mother, could have been the punch to the jaw, could have been the not coming quietly when he kidnapped me." She had to give him props. Few people could sound that jolly beat half to death and chained in a sinking ship. She still had her suspicions, but his manner and speech were enough she'd at least get him off this sinking ship. She could always toss him overboard later if the situation warranted.

"Alright then, sounds like I owe you a drink or three. Shall we reconvene our conversation on my ship?" Briallen took the nearby key from the wall, and turned the rusted lock. It groaned, but finally opened.

"Does it come with complimentary key service?"

"Sadly, no, that's going to have to wait until we can get you to a proper blacksmith with proper tools. You do not want us making shift on a rocking boat that close to your hands and feet." She didn't care for how he narrowed his eyes at her, as if he were weighing her words. Did he really think she'd waste time searching a sinking ship for keys, when they were only a few days from port and a proper blacksmith?

"S'truth." He seemed to settle a little, when she didn't offer any more.

"Come on then. We can get you cleaned, fed, and maybe some of those wounds tended on _The Hind Wind_."

" _Hind Wind_?!" Blondie wheeled back, the corner of the brig catching him up. Bilge water splashed Briallen's face. It reeked of all the things the crew hadn't been cleaning out down below. She was grateful she was planning on bathing herself anyways tonight.

"What, man! What's got into you?" She tilted her head at him. "Would you rather drown in this stinking filth then?" Briallen gestured to the rising water, and the open door. "At least on _The Hind Wind_ , you've a fighting chance against whatever's got you spooked. Here, it's cold water, filth, and Davy Jones." She backed away from the door, giving him room to pass. She could only roll her eyes as he flinched passing her. The man could quip about Azog, but she scared him?

But a rapidly sinking ship was surely no place for long blather, and soon she chivvied him across to her own serenely floating haven.

_**To be continued...** _


	2. Wren

_**Written by kkolmakov** _

Wren's current location was the third ship she'd been on in her life; and she had to admit it fared well in comparison to the first two. The first one - Kingston - was a merchant ship. It had been dirty and crowded, although her guardian, Lord Beorn, had endeavoured to pay for the best possible accommodations for her on it. Her journey had not been jolly. She was heading to the colonies to be married out to a widower she'd never met in her life. The companion hired for her was a middle-aged woman of unpleasant manners and sad predisposition to drink. Other passengers seemed in dark spirits; and most of the journey Wren spent in the cabin, suffering from the travel sickness. With time, she thankfully had grown quite accustomed to the rocking of the ship and the smells - and that was when the pirates attacked.

She was sleeping in the cabin when the first noise came; and after that she could hardly remember what was happening. She had seen death before, but it had not been of violent manner. Her guardian held an infirmary in the wing of his mansion, having allowed a former army surgeon to attend in those rooms to the sick and the wounded. Wren was allowed to help out. Since early childhood she had shown interest in sciences and medicine; and as an orphan and a hardly attractive bride, she had been left to her own devices. Blood didn't frighten her; human anatomy fascinated her. Since the surgeon in her guardian's hospital couldn't afford many help, she was not chased away despite her gender.

The fight and murder she faced was not something she was prepared for. She hid in the hold, behind some sacks and barrels, but she was of course discovered. The pirates were thorough; and also seemed to have been aware of the passengers that could be found on Kingston.

She was dragged out by the three men, and one of them immediately started ripping her dress. She screamed, but to her own surprise there was a certain degree of rage mixed into her resistance. It must have been all those generation of Catholic blood in her veins. As a woman she of course had little skill in a combat, but she later felt proud of the injuries she had managed to inflict on her attackers before they had overpowered her. One thought thrashed in her mind: she had no hope to escape, or save her virtue and life. She might as well try to make it bloody and quick.

She was saved - as loosely as this word applied to her circumstances - by another pair of pirates who came down to the hold. By then the right half of her face was swelling and her broken lips were bleeding; but she apparently still looked as a desirable loot. The newcomers stopped the man who was bunching up her skirt, and dragged him aside. She was hit again and asked whether she was a maiden. She didn't know what answer was the beneficial one; and nodded opting out to tell the truth. She was then grabbed and rudely pushed out of the hold, and onto the deck; where she immediately started vomiting from the picture that opened to her eyes.

The men were discussing her skin and her red hair, meanwhile. Apparently, her virtue, the paleness, and the fiery locks could make her a profitable sell; and she was presented to the captain.

She had never found out his name. To add to her terror caused by her situation, the man was abominable: he was showing signs of albinism; and there was little human in his features and the movements of his large body. She was thrown to his feet in the small boat when they were the sinking leaving Kingston behind, and he didn't spare her a glance.

One of the pirates then took her to the captain's cabin. By then she had firmly decided to take her own life. She was herself surprised how little the promise of eternal damnation mattered to her now. Unfortunately, her wrists and ankles were tied as soon as she was pushed into the small foul smelling room. She was shoved into the corner of it, on the pile of some dirty clothes; and although her stomach was empty by then, more heaves came.

The captain appeared later; and she followed his movements around with dry eyes. To her own astonishment, she still hadn't shed a single tear.

The captain ate, drank, and then he lay on the narrow cot, by the opposite wall from her. Wren was still watching him a few hours later, but then her mind couldn't hold on anymore; and she fell into half delirium, half slumber.

She couldn't tell how much time passed, when she was woken up with a strong painful kick into her side. Another pirate was scooting in front of her, with a piece of bread in his hand.

"Eat, bird. Captain needs you alive." There was no sense in being stubborn, and Wren sank her teeth into the stale piece in the pirate's hand. "We gunna get a jolly price for 'tis," he sneered, and suddenly pushed a hand into the opening of Wren's ripped bodice. Wren jerked, and tried to roll away from him - for which she received a slap. She whined from pain, while the pirate's hands wandered, squeezing her breasts roughly. Another slap and another piece of bread followed; and then she was left alone.

It continued for two more days, and each time she was fed, a new pirate would come. They poked, grabbed, and kicked; but besides that she sustained no other abuse. Her lips were healing, and it was becoming clear that the filth were told to leave as few markings on her as possible. She made a conclusion that wherever she was to be delivered and sold was not too far.

And then the sound of canons came; and then a fight; and suddenly the captain tumbled into the cabin. That was the first time when he even looked at her. He cut the ropes around her ankles. She had little sensation in her legs and hands by then; but again the Irish blood boiled. He was half supporting her with one hand, and rummaging through some chests on his cot; when she lunged at him with a furious scream. These were the first - and most likely the last - minutes of her freedom and she was not letting them go to waste. Some strange cold calculativeness woke up in her, and she aimed for his eyes. She also kicked him between his legs, and when he oophed and released her shoulder for an instant, she jumped and tried to snatch a blade from under her feet. She was unsuccessful. An excruciating blow in her stomach came, and she bent in half.

Everything that followed was a whirpool. It took her a few moments to realise that the crew that had boarded the slavers ship were all women; and then a short, curvaceous woman stepped ahead. Wren was tossed aside; and the duel between the woman and the albino started - and then ended surprisingly fast. His head rolled on the wooden boards, and Wren would have vomited had she any ability left.

* * *

And now she was sitting in a small cabin; and everything was scrubbed and clean around her; and she started shaking. She was fed and given an opportunity to wash, and provided with clean clothes. A young Irish woman named Pippi was a cabin girl; and she gave Wren her own shirt, trousers, boots, and even undergarments. Oddly enough Wren's composure crumbled when Pippi presented her with a doublet she'd dug out from her sack. Wren started crying, pressing clean, worn out clothes to her chest. The girl sat on the cot near her and patted her shoulder.

"'Tis alright, miss. We ain't gunna hurt you."

Wren tried to rein the tears, but they just ran and ran.

"Get dressed, miss. The captain will wanna see yer."

Wren nodded, scared to seem ungrateful; quickly garbed; and got up to follow the sailor girl to the captain's cabin. Everything hurt; Wren had to hold on to the walls to stay upright.

She told herself to gather her bearings - she still didn't know what the women's intentions were towards her. She knew that Mr. Bowman, her betrothed, was not a rich man; but she still hoped his position could be used as an incentive to convince the crew to bring her to him. Wren couldn't be sure he'd be willing to pay, to be honest. All the correspondence with him was held by her guardian. She had been told he was a decent man, but was it not a contradictory statement in its own?

Pippi left Wren with the captain, who was sitting in her cabin, legs crossed in the ankles on a small table by the window, maps scattered on it.

"Ah, there ye are, and lookin' a mite better, if I do say so myself. Have the crew been treating you well?"

"Yes, thank you. I would say I was treated better than ever in my life." Wren shifted between her feet, and winced from pain in her ribs. "May I ask what your intentions are regarding me?"

The captain seemed to have noticed the wince. "Has the sawbones seen them ribs yet? Our intentions remain as they always have: to get you home, though I'm wondering if that's in your best interests, if my crew's the best treated you've ever been."

Wren smiled tiredly. "I had a very strict governess who thought me dim. And when I was older I was considered too smart for a woman. At least your crew cares not that I wear a skirt." Wren looked down herself. "Well, not presently." She sighed. "My home is to be in Port Esgaroth, where my husband to be is expecting me to arrive to take care of his three children."

The captain leaned back in her comfortable chair, staring out the window at the light playing across the water. "You don't sound very happy about this future to be. How about this, then? We have to make port. My ship needs repairs, there's a man needing out of irons, and I don' like floating this heavy. We're as fat a target for other pirates or Ships of the Line as ever The Gundabad was. We'll make port, get repairs done, offload our goods, and you can take the layover to decide if we're sailing you to Esgaroth, or somewhere else. The decision is yours, and somethin's telling me that's a first for you."

Wren's mind whirred. The captain had guessed right: Wren hadn't ever had a chance to make any decisions regarding her life. On the other hand, either of the prospects available to her was hardly a future to look forward to. Staying in a port, without a trade and protection would be dangerous. Going to Esgaroth would be a wiser choice, and she just needed to accept it.

"Thank you, captain."

"So, that husband of yours? Governor, you said?" the woman asked in a nonchalant tone. The sharp expression in her large brown eyes didn't escape Wren's attention.

"Yes, Governor Bowman, Port Esgaroth. He will be very grateful, and very generous to see me arrive there unscathed." Wren hoped she sounded more convinced that she felt.

"Alright. Then 'tis fortunate, indeed, we ran into you, Ms. O'Leary, for all our sakes. Ask young Pippi what you can do to help in the meantime."

Wren curtsied and hastily left the cabin. Her future still looked very much uncertain, but at least her daily meals switched from bread, abuse, and molestation - to pork, cheese, and scrubbing floors and washing laundry.


	3. Briallen

_**Written by Wynni** _

Captain Davis leaned back in her chair, feet propped on the map table, pondering what to make of her two newly rescued passengers. Wren, she felt, would probably decide to strike out on her own. Tying herself down to a man already laden with children after tasting freedom seemed a fate too cruel. However, if she didn't have any marketable skills, she couldn't very well make a living for herself. It was a conundrum, and Briallen felt the familiar itch to do something about it.

Wren had called herself 'too smart for a woman.' Her alert gaze and quick wit seemed to bear that out, and Briallen never heard of anyone having too many allies. If she was as clever as all that, Briallen could scope out what she was good for on the way into port, and help her set up shop if she so chose. Having another safe harbor certainly wouldn't hurt her or her crew. It was a smart investment, really. One that could prove profitable, if not downright life saving, if done right.

Nebulous plans for Wren aside, Briallen puzzled over her other foundling, Blondie. She honestly didn't know what to make of him, A man that could curse and deck Azog and live to tell the tale, even if he had been clapped in irons for it, was not a coward or a weakling. Yet this same man flinched back from her the moment he heard the name of her ship. What had he heard? What did he know, or think he knew?

Briallen was still puzzling over the problem when Billie Baggins came tearing into her cabin, drenched. "Captain! Yer needed wi' the one in irons. He's havin' none of it, an' Brigid's ready to toss him overboard."

"Tell them both to stand down, I'm comin'." Briallen hefted herself up from her cozy chair and table as Billie raced back out of the room. Mayhap this would give her the opportunity to unravel some of the mystery around her Blonde in Irons.

She arrived to absolute silence, well, as silent as any ship out to sea ever got. Sailors calling orders back and forth, along with wind and water lapping the boatsides filled the background. Which somehow made the marked silence of the stilted staredown that much more compelling. Brigid was staring down Blondie, and Blondie was staring back just as stubbornly despite the irons around wrists and ankles. He was doing a rather bang up job of it, too. A tub turned on its side told the rest of the tale: suds liberally covered both combatants and most of the room.

"Is there something you have against cleanliness, Blondie?" Briallen crossed her arms and leaned casually against the doorframe. Was it wrong of her to enjoy the fine view on display thanks to a soaked shirt? The man had muscles for days, and the nearly transparent cloth showed them off nicely.

"Only when it's a ploy to cut my throat." The vicious snarl was a bit of a downer, though, and Briallen found herself straightening up defensively almost without thought.

Brigid snorted. "Wasna doin' nothin' of the sort. If ye want ter look like an unsheared sheep when we hit port 'tis fine with me. I'll nay be offerin' again." Briallen winced. Brigid's accent only got that thick when positively infuriated. Precisely what manner of man had she brought aboard her vessel? Few to none of her crew came from rosey backgrounds. Most of her crew came from bleak circumstances, and those usually involved abusive men of one stripe or the other. Briallen found herself rubbing her wrist again. She'd toss him overboard herself before she allowed anything like that to happen on her ship. Then again, men weren't the only abusive sots around. There was a little too much real fear in Blondie's eyes as he warily watched that razor.

"Brigid, perhaps it is a mite of a stretch to ask him to trust a blade at his throat so soon after his rescue, especially still bound as he is." Briallen watched Brigid's eyes widen, as if that hadn't occurred to her. Briallen hid her smile when a brilliant blush crept up her cheeks. Brigid would probably curse her fair Irish skin to the sodding deeps if she knew it gave her embarrassment away so easily. Everyone aboard got a kick out of it, though, which was one reason no one had told her yet.

"Aye, Captain, I hadna thought… excuse me, please." Brigid made her escape as decorously as she could, leaving Briallen and Blondie alone in the room. She sauntered over to the overturned tub, and kicked it upright again, tsking. "Now I'll have to ask Billie to have Merry and Pippi fill it again. You realize how much work you've made for them?"

Blondie regarded her warily. "Why does it matter to you?" Briallen cast him a very jaundiced look.

"Well, since you won't believe it mere kindness, how about this: I don't want you stinking up my ship." Briallen settled herself in one of the chairs, and waved to him to sit in the one opposite her. He stubbornly stood where he was for a long while, before finally sighing and taking a seat. Briallen couldn't resist a sarcastic clap, earning her a sour look in return.

"Now, I know the fact yer still in irons has rather whittled what little faith ye did have in us, but I promise you, we're headed to port and a damned good blacksmith to remedy that." Briallen leaned forward, chin resting on her folded hands, elbows propped on the arms of her chair.

"Why do you do that?" He flipped a soaked braid over his shoulder, sitting forward himself to regard her with too knowing eyes.

"Why do I do what?" Briallen found herself tensing warily.

"Your speech. It's not really Irish, is it? Why do you hide your real accent?"

"Now who in his right mind is gonna take orders from a silly southern belle?" Briallen easily fell back into the familiar cadence of her childhood, eyes sparkling. Then she switched to that she picked up aboard ship. "Better to make their bellies tremble from one they've a'ready learned t' fear." Briallen got up and called through the door while her captive audience gaped. 'Billie! Have Merry and Pippi bring more water. Our guest had an accident."

"Aye aye, Captain." Briallen acknowledged Billie's answer with a jaunty wave, and strode back to her seat, raising an eloquent eyebrow at Blondie's expectant face.

"How can you do it?"

"Do what?" Briallen gestured at the room. It was a typical cabin: bolted table and chairs, single cot neatly made, and a footlocker to store items safely from seawash. "Offer you decent accommodations? Easily, most of my crew prefer to sleep below the waterline in their hammocks. They swear it's cooler there and more comfortable, like being rocked to sleep every night."

It was rather entertaining watching his face darken. His nostrils actually flared.

"What games are you playing with me, woman? Why pretend to cordiality, when we both know I'm not getting off this boat alive?"

Briallen's brows drew down, and she tilted her head in confusion, studying the man. No, his posture, his stance, his furious face, and low growl all said he was absolutely convinced he was telling the truth. Her own reaction seemed to startle him, as if he wasn't expecting it.

"Why do you think I'm going to kill you?" Briallen finally found enough voice to ask.

"You admitted this was The Hind Wind. Every sailor knows no man escapes The Hind Wind alive." He shrugged carelessly, as if this were common knowledge.

"Every sailor, and who told this tale to 'every sailor'?" Briallen asked, trying to puzzle out where this particular tall tale could have possibly started. It didn't make sense.

"Tavern talk." He finally admitted. Briallen laughed herself down into her seat.

"Tavern talk? Of all things, you're going to condemn me and my crew over cheap, swill-induced tavern talk?" Briallen caught her breath and let it out on a long sigh. "God above, man, I thought you smarter than that."

Whatever he was going to reply was interrupted by the industrious patter of bare feet slapping against planks, as both Merry and Pippi brought in steaming buckets of water. They dumped them into the waiting tub, and pattered back out for more. Briallen turned back to Fili with a raised eyebrow. "M'afraid it'll have to be a salt water wash, the fresh is too precious to waste on bathing, but it will get that stink off you. Will you allow me to help?"

The long nose twitched above unraveling mustache braids, and the plump lips quirked into a semi sad smile. "I've not much choice in the matter, have I?"

"You do not want me calling Gretel in here to hold you down while I scrub you. She'll enjoy it entirely too much for your own comfort," Briallen dryly informed him. "Here, I'll help you in." Warily, slowly, he allowed her to help him gingerly into the warm water, though it wasn't very deep yet. Negotiating the side of the tub in leg irons and bound hands required all the help Briallen could give him.

Merry and Pippi came back with their second load of warm water, which they happily dumped on Blondie's head. Briallen pulled out a fragrant soap. It smelled a bit like cedar and crisp ferns. She smiled to herself at the thinly disguised deep sigh. Someone apparently approved of scented soap. She worked up a thick lather, and then briskly rubbed it into his back, digging her thumbs into knotted muscles. He tensed, and then sagged against her hands on a sigh.

"So this is how you do it, then." He leaned back on the rim to meet her puzzled gaze, temporarily stopping her hands.

"Do what?"

"Kill the men: you drown them by relaxing them so." Briallen snorted, then pushed him down into the water. He came back up sputtering. "What?" Her hands immediately started scrubbing his scalp, hard enough he wondered aloud if she meant to leave him bald..

"I get you out of that hellhole, take enough time to make sure you don't stink up my ship, and still you accuse me of trying to murder you?"

"A joke! It was an ill timed, ill advised joke! Can we go back to you rubbing the knots out of my back?" A grown man should not be allowed to pout so prettily. The soulful blue eyes and sinfully thick lashes were almost too much for her to bear. Briallen drubbed him under the water one more good time before hauling him back up and flopping him forward like so much laundry. To her dying day, she wouldn't admit what possessed her to resume the backrub, but his heartfelt sigh of relaxation caused something warm and fluttery to bloom in the pit of her passes over his slowly relaxing muscles became slower, gentler, more sensual as she worked her way up and down his spine. The warm and fluttery feeling bloomed into unadorned want at the low rumble of relief. Good lord, if he sounded like that over a mere backrub, what sounds could she cause were she to pleasure him in bed?

Briallen decided to find out. She eased him back against the tub, turning her attention from his back to his shoulders. This gave him a perfect view of her generous bosom, which his smokey gaze under half lidded eyes never strayed. He truly was a well made man, six foot if he were an inch, broad across the shoulders, and well muscled from hauling yardsheets and rigging lines, if she didn't mistake the callouses across his palms. She stuttered to a halt, when he languidly pulled one of her hands in both of his to his mouth, and kissed her wrist, her pulse picking up to a frantic beat at the tender gesture.

Mayhap it wouldn't take much at all to tumble him into her bed, but she refused to play conquest. Nay, in this contest of wills, she'd either have him on her terms, or not at all. She didn't claw her way free to captain her own life just to fall prey to a pretty face and glib tongue. No matter that said tongue was now laving little love bites into her wrist, watching for her reaction. Well, she'd give him a proper one, then.

The free hand tweaked the half raveled mustaches adorning his face. "Care for a wee bit of help taming that wild brush on your face?" How adorable, the flush ran from eartips to halfway down the half hidden chest! She was not paying any attention at all to the soft dusting of golden curls sparkling as if bedewed at beltane.

"That, would actually be appreciated, my lady." His poor voice sounded so strangled, Briallen had to stifle her own giggle.

"Then let's finish your bath, and I'll sit you here and neaten your hair, mustache braids and all. Hm?" Briallen still took her time. She lathered each limb carefully, especially since she was as much washing his clothing as himself, and using every opportunity to languidly caress and fondle as much of him as she could reach.

She could reach all of him. Despite it all, he didn't raise his voice, didn't get rough, didn't push the matter, though his tight pants and flushed skin was all the proof in the world she was driving him wild, she decided to take pity on him, and declare him done. She offered no excessive touches, but did gently dry him as much as she could in wet clothes, and bundled him in a thick blanket to sop up what water the towel couldn't. She then sat him on the floor, laid his head back in her lap, and proceeded to massage his scalp until he was fairly dozing. Then she set to untangling his wet hair and braiding it all neatly out of the way. There was enough of the moustache braids to easily reconstruct their tidy little plaits.

He was all but dozing on her when she tied off the last one, and leaned down, barely an inch from his lips, to ask softly, "Will you let me have you tonight?"


	4. Blondie

_Written by Wynni_

“Will you let me have you tonight?”

Fili’s eyes popped open in surprise. He had half decided the woman was simply seeing how far she could push him before he reacted badly, giving her reason to do away with him. The question caught him all unawares, and left him thoroughly confused.  

He’d be a lying dog if he said he didn’t find her attractive. His strained trousers alone would attest to that. What worried him was what came after. He had no clue to her real intentions, and the treatment aboard the _Hind Wind_ was about as contrary to what he’d been lead to believe as it could be. He honestly didn’t know what to make of any of it.

The only thing that gave the tavern talk any credence at all was the fact Captain Davis and crew kept him in irons. It might be true she had no means aboard to get him safely out, but then, it was also as likely not. Most crews carried tools for small repairs, and some of those tools he knew for a fact were most effective in removing shackles.

So,  as he laid there, clean, scrubbed, and as sexually frustrated as if he’d been to sea months instead of weeks, it actually took Fili Durinsson a moment to answer.  A frustrated sounding  snarl behind him and finding himself shoved off her lap inclined Fili to believe he’d taken too long to answer. Luckily, he found his voice before she reached the door.

“Are you sure you want me in your bed?” The soft question stopped Briallen in her tracks, though she didn’t turn around.

“I’d not have offered, were I not sure.”

“Then, my lady,  have me.”  He was not expecting her to haul him bodily over her shoulder, nor the rather loud and effusive catcalls from her crew as she carried him to her cabin. It was almost the end of their amorous adventure right there.

Once in the captain’s cabin, Fili found himself back on his own feet, and the captain turning the lock. “And that should keep the too curious at bay.”  The heated look Briallen sent roving over his body was almost enough to revive his ardor, but only almost. Besides which, he wasn’t of a mind to make it that easy for her, not after subjecting him to that bouncing (and bruising) humiliation.

Both pairs of eyes tracked to his much comfier pants. “Oh dear, appears you’ve lost the winds in your sails. However shall we remedy this situation?” There was a light, teasing tone to her voice, and he found himself responding in kind.

The look he gave her was pure sin. “Oh, I’ve a feeling you’ll think of something.”

She stalked towards him, laying one pointy finger on his chest, until he backed into the bed, and then she pushed.

He landed heavily on his back, unprepared for her weight falling on top of him. “I’ve an idea or three, yes.” Color him very intrigued indeed. He was rather limited in what he could do to participate. The chain between his wrists only had about a two foot play, and the same went for the chain between his ankles. He idly wondered if the good Captain had considered that when she decided to bed him.

Small, rope callused hands pushed his lawn shirt up his ribs, lightly tracing over the muscles dancing at her touch. She looked up at him in amusement when he could no longer hold the laughter at bay. “Mercy, woman! I thought you had plans?”

“I do.” She smiled at him, settling her weight over his own hips, so more easily run both hands over his bare torso. “Yer a finely made man, Blondie, and no mistake.”

He laughed harder, strong enough to bounce her deliciously against his growing interest. “Blondie?”

“Well, you’ve not shared your name, and I can understand why. Had to call you something.”She shrugged, but those little hands still ran in shivering circles over his chest, wrapping a blonde hair around a finger here, or smoothing over a plane of muscle there. He could quickly get addicted to her touch.

“Well, to be fair, you’ve not shared yours, either.” At this point, everything had a hazy edge to it. He felt he should be given a medal for even being able to string a sentence together, much less keeping his voice level.

“What? Tavern talk didn’t provide my name?” The voice was pure sin purring along his nerves, sliding as deliciously as those little hands that seemed intent on leaving no spot uncaressed.

“Nope.” He cleared his throat and tried again. “No name for the captain of the devil’s own ship, manned by flesh-eating harpies set on killing every man born.” The lovely little hands stopped, as she collapsed on him in a fit of giggles.

“And you believed that mess? Why?”  He carefully worked his hands around her, the chains making it a near herculean feat.  Something in the center of his chest squeezed tightly when she allowed him to hold her close.

“Now even you know there’s some kernel of truth in even the wildest tale. I didn’t think you lot were cannibals, or anything.” His eyes darkened. “But I also didn’t think a group of women driven to pirating would have any charity for menfolk.”

“Hmm.” Was the considered reply, and the small hands started investigating again. He sucked in a breath when they started working themselves lower. “That conclusion does make some sense. You’re not far wrong, most of the women on this ship have bad histories, though I’m rather insulted that meant we all simply had to be menhaters. Does it feel like I hate you?” The heavy lidded gaze and her hands on him had him at full sails and all hands on deck.

“No.” He smiled up at her whimsically. “Though you’ve yet to share your name.” He liked her laugh. It was a light, bubbly thing that begged his own laugh to join it.

“Captain Briallen Carys Davis, at your service.”

Fili opened his mouth to reply in kind, and found his voice catching. Could he trust her with his name? She was an admitted pirate, and his name had value to the right people. He must again have taken too long, because she sighed long and hard.

“Save it, then. Blondie you’ll remain until you can trust me with it.” It didn’t seem to slow her down any, lips joined hands, her body sliding sensually down his to accommodate her new pastime. Her  circling tongue and sucking heat sent pleasure singing through his body. It was in embarrassingly short order he was bucking and calling her name. When the starbursts finally cleared his eyes, she was grinning up at him like a cat found in the henhouse.

“What…” Fili found himself inhaling and trying again. “What about your pleasure?”  Again she gave him that satisfied, predatory smile.

“One thing I learned about sailors at sea.”  She purred as she manhandled him back to attention. “Is that they’re always up for another round.” She wasn’t wrong, but this time, he wanted to be more of a participant, and her lovely bosom had been positively torturing him. 

He carefully reached forward to caress one soft globe. The indrawn breath was gratifying. “Perhaps, I might return the favor? Pleasure for pleasure?” His hands ghosted down to her hips, hitching her a bit closer.

“What did you have in mind?” Slowly, he uncovered both breasts, loosening her breast binding (no corset!) with slow determination. He could see the goosebumps rising just from these gentle touches.

“Oh, perhaps starting by worshiping at the altar of the two most perfect breasts I have ever seen.” She snorted, about to say something when his lips closed around the nearest nipple. Whatever it was she meant to say was lost in a babble. He smiled around her nipple, laving it with his tongue and circling it before letting it go with a pop. He felt her whole body shudder when he repeated his attentions on the other one. She was shifting against him rather restlessly before he was done.

He buried his face between them and hummed happily. He could easily get attached to the scent of ocean air and honeysuckle. Her hands were clutching his hair and stroking through its length by turns. It was rather soothing, but arousing at the same time. He wasn’t sure how that worked, but there it was.

Surprising her, he rolled them over, and the evening got that much more interesting for the both of them. It was a long, pleasant night for the both of them.


End file.
